The Encyclopaedia of Ancient Things
by Aedammair
Summary: She will always remember two things from her childhood very clearly: the smell of musty, old books at the town library and the barn owl that sat outside her bedroom window every evening through her adolescence. We never truly outrun our past, no matter how hard we try.
1. Samhain

Alright, folks, trying something new...I discovered the cache of Labyrinth fiction a few months ago and have kind of fallen down the rabbit hole. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not...we'll see, I suppose. ;-)

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Jim Henson and crew. Borrowing, here.

* * *

_"You remind me of the babe..."_

She will always remember two things from her childhood very clearly: the smell of musty, old books at the town library and the barn owl that sat outside her bedroom window every evening through her adolescence. The books are a scent memory, and therefore easiest to recall despite the nearly two decades that have passed since then. Even now, on particularly damp days, she'll smell the books in her current library and instantly feel ten years old again.

The barn owl, however, is a different - darker - memory, altogether...one that has a horrible tendency to pop up when it's unwanted...much like the Goblin King associated with it...

"Miss Williams!"

The hush sound that leaves her mouth is reflexive at this point, but the child quiets without dampening his enthusiasm. She shakes her head, smiles down at him over the counter. He holds up an oversized tome, seems to struggle under the weight of it. She takes it from him, her eyebrows rising at the title.

"_The Encyclopaedia of Ancient Things_, huh?" He nods, nearly vibrating from excitement. His young face wears a serious expression. "Do you think you're old enough to handle such a subject, Callum?" He nods again. "Well, then, young sir, I want no complaints if the mummies scare you."

He laughs, the sound full of sunshine in the dimness of the library. "I'm not scared of nothing," he says, watching her stamp the card and its pocket with the return date. She eyes him over the rims of her glasses and fully believes that he isn't. Callum Archer's father is the Fair Haven Police Chief; bravery runs in the family.

She leans on the counter to smile at him while she hands him the book. "Off you go," she says and the boy grins, takes off for the front door of the library.

"Sarah!"

She rolls her eyes, has to keep herself from hushing her boss. Sandra Green hurries across the floor of the library, skirting around small children and bored mothers. When she arrives at the circulation desk, she's out of breath and grinning.

"You're setting a poor example, Sandra," Sarah says, returning the grin, "yelling and running like a rambunctious teenager."

"To be fair, they're about to be Michael's problem so you shouldn't worry." Sandra hands her a cream envelope. "This came for you just now."

She opens it, frowns. "Oh lord…"

Sandra peers over Sarah's shoulder at the invitation. "I had a feeling it was one of those."

Michael arrives, arms full of books, and stares at the two women with a wary expression on his boyish face. "What is it?"

"An invitation to Samhain Night up at the Prescott Manor," Sandra says, all smiles.

Sarah tries not to shiver at the mention of Samhain. Since her adolescence, since that night she'd run the Labyrinth, she'd made a point of staying in on Halloween night - doors locked, porch lights off, and tucked away in a corner so she could see something coming. The idea of going up to Prescott Manor - the ridiculously oversized mansion at the top of Prescott Hill towards the edge of town - on that particular evening appealed to her about as much as day old sushi from a gas station.

"I'm not going," she says, letting the invitation fall into the wastebasket near her feet.

They both look at her, shocked. "You have to go!" Michael says, more animated than she's ever seen him.

"I don't go out on Halloween," she says, her tone brooking no arguments.

"But it's Prescott Manor," Sandra says, her voice nearing a whine. "It's not every day that one of us lowly pilgrims gets an invitation to a party up there."

"What can I say?" Sarah shrugs. "I'm hard to impress."

* * *

From _The Encyclopaedia of Ancient Things_

Page 703:

**Samhain:** Pronounced "sow-in", this is the end of summer and is recognized as the final harvest of the season before the darkness of winter descends. Also known as Ancestor Night, the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead is thin during the late hours; many creatures may pass through this veil and souls may walk amongst those they left behind.


	2. Foxglove & Owl

_"The babe of the power..."_

Two weeks later, on Halloween, Sarah breaks her own rules. She wears a black dress and a raven mask to work that day, plays with the small children in their brightly colored costumes. The day goes by without incident, the sky bright blue and the autumn colors vibrant in contrast. Sandra and Michael mention the party at Prescott Manor only once and her expression is enough to quiet them on the subject for good. By the time they close up the library, she's ready to pour a tall glass of wine and hand out candy to the neighborhood kids in her sweats.

"I can't believe you turned that invitation down," Michael says, shaking his head as he locks the front door.

"You could always go in my place," Sarah says, smiling. Michael's expression immediately brightens. "Since I know you fished that damn invitation out of the trash, you ridiculous man."

"My big gay heart just exploded," he says, clapping his hands with joy. "Thank you, Sarah!" He kisses her cheek and rushes off into the night.

She and Sandra watch him go, both smiling and shaking their heads. "I wonder what his costume will be," Sandra says. "He saw Robin Hood recently and won't shut up about Russell Crowe's stupid face."

Sarah laughs, links her arm with her boss'. "Any plans for your evening?" she asks as they walk towards their cars.

"Joe is out trick-or-treating with the kids right now, which means I'll spend my evening reading trashy magazines and drinking wine while they get high on sugar."

"Sounds like the perfect evening."

"You know it."

They laugh, say their goodbyes, and drive off to their respective homes on opposite sides of town. As she makes her way home, Sarah watches the lights on Prescott Hill shimmer in the inky darkness, the rocky crag that sits above Fair Haven a constant sentinel watching over the village below. Prescott Manor is a sight to behold in the daylight; she imagines it's even more beautiful at night.

She parks in the driveway of her tiny bungalow on Foxglove Lane, a small neighborhood towards the southern edge of Fair Haven. The houses are older here, small and quaint and reminiscent of a different decade. A black cat sits in the front window, waiting for her. She smiles at him as she crosses the yard to the front door, ready for a quiet evening and comfortable pants.

The flutter of wings against branches catches her attention and she looks up at the giant oak in her front yard, the leaves still turning red as October says its good-byes. Sitting there, hard to miss amongst the bright color, is a white and tan barn owl. Her heart stops in her chest and she forgets to breathe as the owl blinks at her.

"No," she whispers, running for the front door. She fumbles with her keys while behind her, the branches rustle as the owl takes flight. She turns the lock but the door refuses to open. She senses, rather than sees, the presence at her back.

"Hello, Sarah."

* * *

From _The Encyclopaedia of Ancient Things_

Page 259:

**Foxglove:** The name of this bell shaped flower comes from the original term "folksglove", which Medieval gardeners may have used to refer to fairy folk. Foxglove is believed to both hurt and heal - to raise the dead and kill the living - due to its medicinal and poisonous properties. Picking the foxglove flower offends the fae and should be avoided at all costs.

Page 560:

**Owl:** In ancient Egyptian, Celtic, and Hindu cultures, the owl was considered a guardian of the underworld, a protector of the dead. Therefore, the owl is the ruler of the night and the seer of souls.


	3. Bastet

Just a couple of author's notes:

1\. This takes place 20 years after Sarah's first adventure in the Labyrinth, which makes her 35. The year is, therefore, 2006.

2\. For the history buffs in the crowd...sushi hit the United States in the late 1960s, became mainstream in major cities during the 1970s when new innovations in refrigeration made shipping fish easier, and was available pretty much across the country by the late 1980s thanks the U.S. obsession with Japanese culture that occurred during that same time period. And it's been available in gas stations - at least where I live - for the last decade.

3\. Fifteen years as a professional researcher AND writer really _does_ come in handy on occasion. ;-)

Thanks for the reviews - hopefully I'm not butchering this completely!

* * *

She screams. She doesn't want to, but she can't help it. She screams like Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween, like Janet Leigh in Psycho. It's the kind of scream that echoes around her, bouncing off the hills that surround the valley, and making her ears ring.

"Jesus, Sarah! I'm sorry!"

She recognizes the voice - Chief Archer. He reaches out a hand to steady her, strong fingers gripping her elbow. She sags with relief and he helps her sit on the step leading up to her porch, keeps his hand around her elbow. She's grateful for it; the adrenaline rush left her shaking.

"Are you okay?"

She tries to laugh but it comes off as half a sob and she takes a deep breath, works to regain her calm. "Yes, Chief...god...I'm so sorry I screamed like that. You scared the bejesus out of me."

"Apparently." He straightens, looks around like the ever vigilant police officer that he is. Beyond her front yard, children in costume fill the street, weaving up and down driveways in search of candy. Sarah wonders where Callum is - he dressed as a knight, she remembers.

"Did you need something, Chief?" she asks, her wits back about her.

"Hmm?" he asks, seeming to shake out of a trance. He looks at her, smiles warmly. "Oh, no. I saw you pull up and just wanted to say hello. Callum can't stop talking about the book he took from the Library. It's where he got the idea for the costume."

Sarah stands, returns his smile with one of her own. "I had a feeling that's why he decided to be a knight. He asked me to call him Sir Callum."

Chief Archer chuckles. "His mother outdid herself for sure. I helped him make the sword, though."

As if summoned by his name alone, Callum arrives in a cacophony of clangs and bangs. He carries a sack with him, so overfilled with candy that it drags along the ground beside him. Sarah can't help the maternal twinge that hits her; she supposes it's a side effect of being a librarian and working with children.

She smiles at the young knight before her. "Hello, Callum."

"Ms. Williams! Trick 'r treat!" The visor on the helmet falls down and Sarah stifles a laugh. The Chief just shakes his head, a sardonic grin on his handsome face.

"Of course, fair knight!" Sarah says, reaching into her work bag. She'd stolen a handful of mini Snickers before leaving the Library for the night on the pretense they'd go well with the '78 cabernet in her kitchen. "As it so happens, I have a few treats on hand." She drops three of the bars into the sack.

"Thanks!" He pushes the visor up, peers at her with keen child eyes. "Hey...where's your costume?"

She smiles. "It's in my bag." She pulls the mask out, places it against her face. "See?"

He shakes his head. "No, not that one. The other one."

"Which other one?"

"The pretty white dress - the one that made you look like a princess!"

The hair on the back of her neck stands up and she glances up at the tree, expecting to see the beady-eyed owl staring down at her. The branches are empty.

"Callum, how did you know about that costume?" She feels Chief Archer's eyes on her, but keeps her focus on the knight.

"The man with the spiky hair told me about it. He said to ask you where it was." The visor falls again and he pushes it up, frowns. "Why'd he want to know?"

"For devious reasons, I'm sure, sir knight." She looks at Chief Archer, gives him the strongest smile she can muster. "Thanks for stopping by, Chief. Again, so sorry I screamed in your face."

"Call me Michael, Sarah. And I'm sorry I scared you." He tips his Fair Haven P.D. ball cap like an old western sheriff. "Enjoy the rest of your evening. Call if you need anything."

"I will." She adds another Snickers bar to Callum's bag. "Enjoy that candy, sir knight."

"Ms. Williams…" He motions her closer and she leans down to be eye level with him. "The man with the spiky hair had goblins with him."

"Goblins?"

He nods, serious. "Goblins." He lowers his voice to a whisper. "And he said to tell you he misses you...but I didn't want my dad to hear that part."

"Okay, Cal, let's go!"

The little knight waves good-bye and runs off into the throng of other trick-r-treaters. She watches him go, followed by his father, and the brief moment of safety she'd felt while they were with her leaves as well. She hurries inside, locking the door behind her. Bastet, the black cat in the window, meets her in the hallway with a welcoming meow.

Sarah smiles at her little black shadow and takes off her shoes, drops her bag on the chair just inside the door. "Hello, little one." The cat meows louder, begins to rub along the wall and rattle her tail. Sarah takes off her coat and turns to hang it on a hook near the door. "How was your day, madame?" she asks, turning back towards Bastet and the rest of her tiny house.

It's then that she catches sight of the shadow, familiar despite the years since she last saw it. She watches as the man with spiky hair - not quite so spiky now as it was two decades ago - steps into the light. The sight of him stops her heart in her chest.

"The better question, my darling Sarah," the Goblin King says, his smile predatory, "is how was _your_ day?"

* * *

From _The Encyclopaedia of Ancient Things_

Page 219

**Egyptian Goddesses - Bastet:** Originally known as the lioness goddess Bast, she was the goddess of warfare in Lower Egypt. Upon unification of the two cultures of Egypt, she became the cat goddess Bastet. In her new form, she protected against evil spirits and gained the title The Eye of Ra as a protector of the pharaohs.


End file.
